


A Quiet Night In

by confinesofpersonalknowledge



Series: Presents for Frens [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Childhood, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Oppressive quiet, Past Mentions of Abuse, Past Mentions of Self-Harm, Reese's Childhood, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 12:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20407678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confinesofpersonalknowledge/pseuds/confinesofpersonalknowledge
Summary: It's a quiet night in, and not the good kind. That's okay, Reese knows how to cope.





	A Quiet Night In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FebruaryFun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FebruaryFun/gifts).

> I hope! You enjoy!

It’s a quiet night. It’s the kind of quiet that feels oppressive, the kind that feels sacrilegious to break, the kind that you want to break but you just can’t bring yourself to. It’s a quiet night, but it’s not the fun kind of quiet.

It kind of reminds Reese of another night, a while back, just like this.

_ Reese sighed down at the hat she was knitting. Usually, knitting was very good at distracting her, at keeping her mind busy as the hours wore on slowly. It was a good way to keep her hands busy at least, because she had to pay more attention to whatever she was knitting. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to not paying attention to things like that, to being able to see what her hands were giving shape to and not tracing along it to make sure she didn’t do it wrong. It’s a blessing all in one._

_Usually. It’s usually a blessing._

_Tonight, it feels like it’s not enough of a distraction from her thoughts, not enough of an escape from the loneliness that seems to plague her every other step. She idly wonders if Smanantha would be back tonight. It’s almost been a week, and dinner is quietly growing cold on the table without her. Reese knows better than to try to eat it though. Smanantha would know. She always does. _

_She sighs softly, shifting in her seat again, trying to find a position she’s comfortable in. It makes her shirt brush against her stomach and she sucks in a sharp breath. _

__

__

_It’s one of those nights then._

__

__

_Reese sets down the knitting needles and walks to the bathroom silently, her footsteps a shadow across the carpeted floor. There’s a kind of empty resignation in her eyes as she walks in and locks the door. It’s one of those nights. _

Reese surges to their feet suddenly, unable to keep themselves sitting any longer. They’re alone in the apartment right now, the silence feeling like it’s choking them with every second that drips by slowly. They’ve been getting better lately, anyway. 

They avoid the kitchen and the bathroom as they pace. The hardwood floor is cool beneath their feet, a way to ground them to reality right then. Reality, and the present, where the sound of their feet hitting the hardwood floor acts like a kind of rhythm they can tie their breath to. 

_Tap, tap, tap, tap – in for four._  
_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap – hold for five._  
_Tap, tap, tap – release for three.  
_Everything’s fine. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

Reese considers texting someone for a few moments, but the only people they talk to aren’t even around. Eli and Madison are on a date (the corner of their mouth twitches for a second) and Henry was busy tonight. They’re alone for the night.

Alone with their thoughts and the silence that feels way too oppressive. Silence shouldn’t ever feel like this, that much Reese is sure of. Silence shouldn’t hurt, not when others found solitude in it. Irrational anger grips them suddenly – why can’t they handle even the simplest of things? Silence shouldn’t freak them out as much as it does, silence should comfort them. Give them the peace of mind that they spent so long waiting for. Why does it feel like it’s crushing them right now?

Reese releases a long breath, closing their eyes and flopping into their bed. It’s a quiet night. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a bad one. After all, if they wanted company, they could just summon it, right?

A wave of their hand, and there’s an illusion in front of them, as close to reality as Reese can manage (and surprisingly, it’s quite close). Their little brother’s face stares back at them, silent and waiting for instruction that Reese can’t make themselves give. Luke’s eyes shine with the same disappointment and anger that they always have, and Reese can’t do this to themselves. It’s not fair. They groan and bury their face into a pillow, the illusion wavering and disappearing. 

Their head hurts now, and their vision swims. It’s a familiar part of their powers, so they ignore it. It’ll go away on it’s own, anyway.

They grab their phone, pulling up Dailypage with the air of someone truly desperate. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing on Chirp either. Reese sighs again. That’s alright. They were going for a walk then. They grab their keys and Ali’s leash, taking their dog out and downstairs.

The cold air nips at their uncovered skin, their jacket forgotten on a hook back at the apartment. It’s not necessary bad, though. The noise of the city fills up the emptiness buzzing in Reese’s head, snippets of overheard conversations carrying through the air. They walk to the dog park, letting Ali go and play with the other dogs as Reese curls up on a snow-covered bench.

The silence comes back, so they grab a tennis ball, throwing it in the air for a second before playing with Ali. It passes the time, and they truly love the giant fluffball that Ali is, so Reese doesn’t notice that it’s become dark until someone tells them that the dog park is closing. 

By the time they get back to the apartment, the silence is something of a forgotten white noise in the back of their head. The dinner Reese made earlier still sits untouched on the kitchen table, so Reese packs it up and puts it away. They weren’t that hungry, anyway.

Reese sighs softly, grabbing their knitting needles. It’s a quiet kind of night, but it’s not the bad kind of quiet.

Not anymore.


End file.
